


Sugar Sweet on my Tongue

by jeeno2



Series: ABO trash [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Bathroom Sex, Bondage, Closet Sex, Dom!Kylo, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Face-Fucking, Hate Sex, Humiliation, Non-Linear Narrative, School Reunion, Y’all this is just a bunch of smut garbage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22310002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/pseuds/jeeno2
Summary: He looks good tonight.He’s a little taller than he was back then, and a hell of a lot broader through the chest. Broader everywhere else, too. At some point over the past ten years he must have ditched the jeans and the band t-shirts because tonight, he’s wearing a charcoal grey suit that fits his body so well it might as well have been tailored specifically for him.Of course, Ben Solo has always looked good. Back when he was a skinny teenager with ears that stuck out and features that didn’t quite sync up there was always something arresting about Ben’s appearance. Even if he hadn’t made it his life’s mission to torment her mercilessly—even if Rey hadn’t been driven completely insane by the irresistible way he smelled—she’s pretty sure she would still have noticed him.-----------(Or: Rey goes to her ten year high school reunion—and runs into an alpha she'd rather forget.)
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: ABO trash [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605835
Comments: 355
Kudos: 1205





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JenfysNest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenfysNest/gifts).



> A slightly belated birthday gift for JenfysNest, who deserves the world. This is pure, unrepentant ABO smut trash my dear. I hope you like it :D
> 
> Many thanks to KyloTrashForever for the beta, the moodboard, and the encouragement.

“Are you ready for me, Omega?”

Ben’s hands are everywhere—on her breasts, her cunt—and Rey is so lost to sensation, so torn between desire and self-loathing that she barely even hears his question. The slick that’s been dripping from her ever since she first caught hint of his scent tonight is already coating her inner thighs and she can’t focus on what he’s saying. All Rey can  _ think _ about right now is how desperately she wants Ben Solo to bend her over this bathroom counter and fuck her already. 

And how much she hates him for it.

When she doesn’t answer his question, Ben’s grip on her waist tightens almost to the point of pain. He slides his hand out from between her legs, and she moans in protest like a fucking  _ animal.  _ Like she’s in  _ heat. _

His voice deepens as he bends to whisper directly into her ear. “I asked you a question, Omega.”

His words carry a veiled threat and a hint of promise, caressing her ear like a lover’s embrace. Rey blinks hard, trying to think through the haze of alpha pheromones and lust and anger clouding her brain. It’s difficult. But if she doesn’t answer him, he won’t fuck her. And  _ god _ , she wants him to fuck her. She would do anything,  _ anything _ , if he would only thrust his cock into her empty, aching cunt right this second and end this misery.

“I’m… I’m ready for you,” she gasps, even as she thinks:  _ I hate you _ .

He hums appreciatively and rewards her by slipping his large hand inside her panties again. She starts bucking against him involuntarily, uncontrollably. She feels powerless to stop what is happening. Like her body is no longer hers to control.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “But call me  _ Alpha _ . Then I’ll give you what you need.”

He slides his fingers forward and finds her swollen little clit. He starts to move against it in slow, methodical little circles. She nearly passes out from the intense, toe-curling pleasure of it and makes an absolutely inhuman sound deep in the back of her throat.

She’s on the cusp of coming already. She is  _ so close. _ He only needs to keep this up a few moments longer, and—

“ _ Alpha _ ,” she whimpers through clenched teeth.

He chuckles against her ear. “Good,” he says again. “That’s a good omega.” 

He grips the waistband of her lacy black panties and tears them off her body with a single rough tug. 

* * *

The minute Rey steps into the hotel ballroom and sees the ~  _ Chandrila High: Class of 2009 ~  _ banner hanging on the back wall she realizes, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, that coming here tonight was a huge mistake. 

The room is decorated like their class reunion committee had thousands of dollars to burn for the occasion—which she suspects is probably true. The women standing by the sign-in table are wearing designer clothes that look like they cost as much as Rey’s monthly rent payment. Within minutes, the past ten years of Rey’s life—which, for the most part, have been happy, successful years—melt away from her like they never happened. 

One  _ look  _ at these people, and Rey is right back in the middle of the waking nightmare that was her high school experience.

She should have known this would happen. What was she thinking, coming here? What on god’s green earth possessed her to email Kaydel Connix, Chandrila High Class of ‘09 class president, and tell her that  _ yes _ , she would be  _ delighted _ to come to their ten year reunion?

Maybe she wanted to prove to the people who were assholes to her growing up—the kids who made fun of her for having to take the bus every day; the kids that snickered about her Salvation Army clothes, who mocked her for having to miss so much school because of her shitty suppressants and her too-frequent heats—that she’s actually made something of herself. That their cruel words no longer hold any power over her.

Or maybe she just had a temporary bout of insanity when she got Kaydel’s pretty invitation. 

Either way, as Rey makes her way further into the room and sees more of the people who used to make her life a living hell, she realizes that coming here really had been a terrible idea.

But then, leaving now, before she even talks to anyone, would be admitting defeat in a way Rey knows she’ll only hate herself for later. It took over an hour to drive here. She can’t face getting back into her car and driving home just yet.

She looks around to see if she can figure out where the bar is. There’s got to be a bar here somewhere, right?

No one ever said she had to do this totally sober. 

Maybe a drink or two will help make this night more bearable.

* * *

Ben Solo’s cock is massive. It’s obscenely thick and heavily veined, with a cockhead that’s so wide it steals the breath from her lungs when he presses inside her. 

She’s known this about Ben Solo for a long time, of course, but she has wondered—on the rare occasions she’s allowed herself to think about him over the years—whether her memory has exaggerated his size since high school. He was her first, after all, and he fucked her through a hard heat. She certainly hadn’t been in a position to think critically about  _ anything _ when she last saw his dick—and, of course, back then she’d had no one else’s cock to compare it to.

But now, Ben Solo is spreading her legs apart with his massive hands right here in the hotel bathroom. A moment later, she feels the tip of his swollen, leaking cock nudging urgently against her aching center. 

And… no.

No. She hadn’t misremembered a goddamn thing.

If anything, Ben Solo is  _ even bigger _ now than he was ten years ago. Rey’s cunt clenches hard—around nothing—in feverish anticipation.

It’s been years—long before she started taking her new, high-end brand of suppressants—since her body has felt this achingly empty. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Ben hums appreciatively. “Good. That’s very good.” He’s teasing her in earnest now, tracing through her folds with the tip of his cock as he fingers her clit, and Rey has to bite her lip to keep herself from begging. She won’t beg him for sex. She still has enough self-possession to promise herself  _ that _ much. But her traitorous body—which cares nothing about her self-possession, or her pride—responds immediately to his praise. She feels another rush of slick leaking out of her, and Ben’s cock swells impossibly larger against her slit in response.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Omega,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear. “Would you like that?” He licks a hot wet stripe along the scent gland closest to his mouth—the one right above the neckline of her dress. Her throat closes and her mind snaps blank with the searing pleasure of it.

“Please,” she begs him desperately, already breaking her promise to herself. She  _ needs _ his cock. She needs to be stuffed so full of him she can’t feel  _ anything _ anymore that isn’t him _. _ “ _ Please,  _ Alpha _. _ ”

Ben only chuckles against her gland, and Rey wonders if this is what dying feels like.

* * *

She doesn’t notice him right away.

Much later—once Rey is finally able to think back on this night with some clarity—she realizes that shouldn’t have been surprising. Before tonight, it had been years since she’d seen him. Even longer than that since she’d  _ smelled _ him. The cheap suppressants she had to take in high school might have been almost useless, but the stuff she’s on now is great. And the room is stuffy, too full of people—too full of their pheromones and their cloying perfumes—to pick out any one scent in isolation. 

True—he had made her nearly crazy with lust back in high school anytime she got within ten feet of him. And, yes, the last time she saw him, he had his knot buried so deep inside her she could feel him in her  _ lungs _ . But the fact remains that the scents of all the terrible people in this room should have been enough to block out almost anything her top-of-the-line suppressants might have missed. 

_ Should have been. _

Rey is standing at the bar, ordering a glass of Chardonnay and trying to ignore the looks she’s getting from a couple of alphas near the dais, when she first catches a hint of Ben Solo’s scent. It’s sharp and tangy, and unmistakable, cutting through the acrid smells in the room like a hot knife sliding through butter.

Rey’s nostrils flare, and she involuntarily gulps in another lungful of air as she takes the wine glass from the beta bartender behind the counter. She tightens her grip on its stem as the scent she spent the better part of four years trying to ignore worms its way into her body through her pores. As if on cue, her glands start to itch, her palms start to sweat, and—

Rey can tell from halfway across the room that he’s unmated. If he were mated he’d smell different to her than he did back then. He wouldn’t smell like warmth, and fire, and raw, unfiltered sex. He’d smell more subdued and less demanding. Less like  _ everything _ Rey has ever wanted. 

She clutches at the back of a nearby chair to try to get a grip on herself, so that the desire that nearly undid her ten years ago doesn’t cause her to completely unravel in front of all these people. 

It doesn’t really help.  _ Nothing _ helps. A few moments spent near his scent, and suddenly she is right there with him again in the backseat of his car, her new prom dress shoved up to her waist and her white cotton panties lying forgotten on the floor. 

(His knot had been  _ blindingly _ thick, she remembers, when he buried it within her, stretching her tight little cunt so deliciously she’d felt seconds away from bursting at the seams.) 

Rey takes a large gulp of wine to try and steady herself and bring her back to the present.

Already, she can feel her heartbeat starting to race. Already she can feel the slick her body makes whenever she allows herself to even  _ think _ about Ben Solo starting to leak from her cunt. If she doesn’t do something, and fast, soon it will be running down her legs. Ruining her dress. 

She closes her eyes, and grips the back of the chair harder, struggling to maintain control.

* * *

“Get down lower,” Ben rasps. 

“Lower?” Rey’s trying to make sense of what he’s telling her. But he’s teasing her in earnest now, fucking her with just the tip of his cock before pulling all the way out again. Her brain has liquified, gone utterly useless, in the face of her raw, desperate need. 

“ _ Lower _ ,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “Rest your forearms on the counter. Use them as a pillow for your head.”

She squeezes her eyes shut tight. “Why?”

“ _ Do it _ .”

Rey whimpers, and does as he instructs. She’s too far gone to fight this, too far gone to do anything but exactly what he—her alpha—tells her to do.

He grabs her hips with both hands, and then fucks into her to the hilt in one sharp thrust, so forcefully she can’t help but cry out.

* * *

  
Rey tells herself she isn’t going to go talk to him. 

He’s just… standing there, on the other side of the room, staring at her with his arms folded across his stupid broad chest, and she  _ doesn’t _ owe him anything, not anymore. Not after all these years.

She doesn’t risk a glance in his direction, but she knows he’s staring at her all the same. She can feel the heat of his gaze on her body as acutely as any physical touch.

Why is he even  _ here _ ? Ben Solo might be the only person she went to high school with who hated it as much as she did. When she told Kaydel she’d come to this event, it never even crossed her mind that she might end up running into him.

Rey looks around the room for something— _ anything _ —to distract her before she goes and does something she’ll definitely regret later. 

She spots Kaydel Connix out of the corner of her eye, standing by herself near the bar and nursing a drink, and recognizes her for the lifeline and savior she is.

She lets go of the chair she’s gripping and makes a beeline right for her old friend. 

“Kaydel,” Rey says in a breathless rush. 

Kaydel looks up from her drink and smiles happily at her, the slightly glazed look in her brown eyes and her flushed cheeks confirming that she’s visited the bar a few times already. Rey dimly notes that she can’t smell an alpha on her. She must not be mated yet, either.

Kaydel was one of the few people who was good to Rey back in high school. She used to drive a used red Toyota Corolla and would give her a ride to school sometimes. Her dad taught in the art department at Chandrila University, and he painted landscapes that used to sell for thousands. Rey forces herself to remember all of these details about Kaydel and her family, to repeat them to herself over and over in her mind like a mantra, if only to distract herself from how desperately she wants to cross the room— _ right fucking now _ —and bury her face in Ben Solo’s neck. 

“Rey!” Kaydel says happily. “It’s so good to see you.” The smell of liquor on Kaydel’s breath is strong—which is a good thing, a distracting thing. Unfortunately, it isn’t quite strong enough to completely overpower Ben’s intoxicating scent, but it’s better than nothing. 

“It’s good to see you too,” Rey says.  _ You have no idea how good.  _ “How’ve you been?” 

“I’ve been great,” Kaydel says. “I graduated from law school a couple of years ago, and I’m an associate with Butzel & Gossett now.” She tosses her dirty blonde hair over her shoulder and—yeah, there’s her unbitten mating gland. She’s definitely not mated. “It’s too much work. You know how that goes, I’m sure. But it’s interesting. I like it.”

Rey smiles at her. Or tries to, anyway. 

“And how have you been, Rey?” Kaydel asks. If she notices how uncomfortable and distracted Rey is right now, she shows no sign of it. “God, it’s been, what—five years now?”

“About that, I think,” Rey says. In truth, she has no idea how long it’s been, and also doesn’t really care—though she has no reason to doubt Kayde’s right. “And I’m... I’ve been good, too.”

“Are you still in engineering?”

“Yeah. I am.” Rey swallows hard. Her mouth is starting to water. Ben’s scent is growing stronger, creeping inside no matter how hard she tries to keep it out, and her body is starting to react. He must be heading this way.  _ Fuck. _ “I work for the city now and… yeah. It’s great.”

“Yeah?” Kaydel says distractedly. Suddenly, all of Kaydel’s attention is focused on something just beyond Rey’s right shoulder. Her eyes flit between whatever she’s looking at and Rey and then back again. She presses her lips together into a tight, thin line. 

Rey doesn’t have to look behind her to know exactly what—or who—Kaydel is looking at. Her heartbeat quickens to a rapid staccato in her chest because she realizes she’s only seconds away from being face to face with the man who made her life a torment back in high school. The person who teased her more mercilessly, more  _ cruelly _ , than anyone else. 

The closer he gets, the thicker the clouds of lust and anger fogging her brain gets. They make rational thought—or even listening to what Kaydel is telling her—almost impossible. 

And then—

“Hello, Rey.”

Ben Solo’s voice in her ear is like molten honey, like a cool drink of water on a hot summer day. His smell, this close to her, defies description. Rey closes her eyes and breathes deeply before she can stop herself, the omega inside her greedy for every drop of it she can get. She takes another deep breath, and another, letting his scent suffuse all of her senses before she can tell herself she should be shutting it—and him—out completely.

When Rey opens her eyes again the world has gone fuzzy at the edges. Kaydel’s eyes are still on Ben, not her 

Ben puts his hand on Rey’s upper arm—warm, strong,  _ alpha is so strong _ —and gives her a gentle squeeze.

Kaydel turns to leave, but Rey hardly notices her go.

* * *

Ben is fucking her in earnest now, the sound his thighs make as they slap against her bare ass filthy and indecent, and she does what he asks her to do, lowering the front half of her body until her forearms rest right on the granite countertop. It changes the angle of Ben’s thrusts, and somehow opens her up even more for him. It allows him to go deeper, lets the head of his cock brush up against parts of her that have never been touched. 

It feels like no part of her isn’t full of him now, that everything  _ in her _ is him. She lets out a low, animalistic groan at the pleasure of it, at how good it feels to be  _ full _ . 

Her noises seem to please him. His thrusting speeds up even more as his grip on her waist tightens.

“You—feel—so— _ fucking—good _ ,” he grunts appreciatively, sliding a hand around her body to grab one of her tits. They are bouncing so much from the force of his fucking her he has to grip tightly just to hold on.

She’s still wearing her party dress. It cost a fortune, and she loves it, but right now, she wants him Ben rip it off her and cup her bare little tits in his massive hands. His palms are so warm—and the thought of what they would feel like on her rock-hard nipples is nearly enough on its own to make her come right then and there.

As if he can hear her unspoken thoughts, a moment later Ben roughly tears down the neckline of her dress. Her tits pop out of it—and the  _ noise _ he makes when he realizes she isn’t wearing a bra tonight—

He  _ growls _ as his knot starts to form and swell inside her. And as Rey’s orgasm starts to build within her, and then crest, and finally pull her under, her body shakes apart on a silent scream.

* * *

He looks good tonight.

He’s a little taller than he was back in high school, and a hell of a lot broader through the chest. Broader everywhere else, too. At some point over the past ten years he must have ditched the jeans and the band t-shirts because tonight, he’s wearing a charcoal grey suit that fits his body so well it might as well have been tailored specifically for him.

Of course, Ben Solo has  _ always _ looked good. Back when he was a skinny teenager with ears that stuck out and features that didn’t quite sync up, there was always something arresting about Ben’s appearance. Even if he hadn’t made it his life’s mission to torment her mercilessly—even if Rey hadn’t been driven completely mental by the irresistible way he smelled—she’s pretty sure she would still have noticed him.

The smile he gives her now that Kaydel has left them alone together almost causes her brain to short out completely.

“Rey,” he says, letting go of her arm. Part of her wants to burst into tears at the sudden lack of physical contact with him even as the rest of her fills with revulsion at the realization that even all these years later she is as helpless to resist him as ever. “What a surprise to see you here.”

He sounds genuinely delighted—like he really hadn’t expected to see her here, but is glad to see her all the same. He isn’t smirking at her, there’s no mocking tone in his voice…

Something’s wrong. 

“So, Rey,” he continues, when she doesn’t say anything in response. “What have you been doing the past ten years? Do you still live in Chandrila?”

At his benign questions, something inside her snaps.

“Don’t act like you care,” she spits at him, her irritation rising. He never cared before, when they were in school together. She refuses to let herself be seduced by this asshole. She will  _ not _ go down this road a second time. 

Ben looks legitimately affronted.

“I’m just making small talk,” he says. He sounds so innocent, but Rey isn’t fooled. “I didn’t come here tonight to attack you or to piss you off.”

“Why  _ did _ you come here tonight?” Rey folds her arms in front of her chest—partly to show him how annoyed she is to be talking with him right now, but mostly to hide the fact that her nipples are already starting to get pointy and hard with arousal beneath the thin fabric of her black sheath dress. 

He shrugs a shoulder and inclines his head towards her. She can smell him better this way, can practically count the individual bits of stubble that dot his chin. Before she can stop herself from doing it, she finds herself imagining what the rough rasp of that stubble might feel like, scraping rough against her inner thighs.

Her cunt  _ clenches _ at the involuntary image of his head between her legs. She has to dig her fingernails into her palms to keep from whimpering.

“Why did I come here tonight?” Ben repeats.

Rey nods. She doesn’t trust her voice.

He shrugs his shoulder again and leans in even closer. “I didn’t have anything better to do,” he says in a mock whisper.

“Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“I have no idea,” he says. He looks at her, then— _ really _ looks at her—his dark brown eyes raking down her body from head to toe with a heated intensity that makes Rey’s galloping heart race even faster. “Why did  _ you _ come here tonight?”

“Because apparently I’m insane,” she says. She tries for harsh, but her words come out much breathier than she intends. 

At that, Ben laughs. 

“You are many things, Rey Niima,” Ben says. “But insane has never been one of them.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she says.

The instant the words are out of her mouth, Rey immediately regrets it. The impact they have on Ben is immediate and impossible to miss. His pupils dilate, and his mouth droops. His scent is spiking so much now that...

If she thought ignoring how Ben smelled before was difficult, right now…

Right now, all she wants to do is  _ drown _ herself in it. 

His nostrils flare, and his eyes flutter closed on a soft groan. He can smell her too, she realizes. He can smell exactly how turned on she is right now. 

When he opens his eyes again, there is no doubt in her mind that he’s just as turned on as she is.

How is that even  _ possible _ ?

Before Rey can make sense of that thought, Ben’s hand shoots out and clamps down around her wrist like a vise.

“Rey,” he murmurs, very quietly. Rey hates the way the sound of her name on his lips make her shiver. “I... happen to know the bathrooms here are quite soundproof.”

Rey’s stomach lurches, and her heart leaps into her throat at the unspoken implication behind his words.

She swallows hard, and wills her knees to stop shaking.

“So?” she says, as defiantly as she can manage. 

“ _ So _ ,” he continues, “you are the most interesting thing here in this stupid party. I... think I’d quite like to try out just  _ how _ soundproof they are.” A beat. “With you.”

His scent is spiking even further the longer they stand here together, and her panties are so wet right now that she’s going to have to go home and change soon even if this stops right now. 

But, god—she doesn’t  _ want _ this to stop right now. She wants this man to fuck her, to  _ use _ her, just as she wanted it when she was a stupid little sixteen-year-old girl and he was an asshole to her in front of everybody in Calculus. Worst of all, she can tell by the suddenly smug look on his face that he knows it, that he can smell her arousal on her as easily as if his face were buried in her cunt right now.

“Please help me test out how soundproof they are, Rey,” he almost purrs, making Rey’s thighs clench. She closes her eyes, but it doesn’t help; behind her eyelids all she can see is Ben—his face; his hands on her body. His cock, slamming into her. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

Then he puts his hand on the small of her back, and all reason leaves her.

* * *

It feels like hours before Ben’s knot softens enough for him to pull out of her. The moment he does, Rey quickly extricates herself from her awkward position between him and the bathroom sink. 

“Fuck,” she mutters as she hastily pushes her arms through the cap sleeves of her dress and pulls its skirt down. His cum and her slick are starting to run down her legs now that he isn’t inside her anymore, and she grabs a wad of paper towels to clean herself with as she looks around the floor for her underwear. She has a dim memory of him ripping them off her at some point before he fucked her, but she can’t remember if that actually happened or if it was just her imagination.

Either way, she can’t see them anywhere right now. 

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” 

Rey looks up sharply at Ben’s question. His face is red and flushed from the events of the past hour, and his suit—immaculately pressed when he showed up here tonight—is now so badly rumpled even the betas who can’t smell the sex on him will know exactly what they’ve just done in here the second they step outside.

Rey scoffs. Fortunately, the blistering orgasms he’s just wrung from her have cleared her head in a way nothing else could have. She is able to see Ben for exactly what he is, without a haze of lust and pheromones clouding her judgment. 

And she can see  _ exactly _ what a terrible mistake this was.

“I don’t think so,” Rey says, sharply. She opens her purse to make sure everything is still inside it. There are her keys, her lipstick, her cell phone, her wallet. Good. Nothing missing. 

Ben clears his throat. “You have a heat coming up soon, do you not?”

Rey glares at him. “How do you know that?” 

“You’ve always been very attuned to my scent,” he points out. “You can’t really think that’s a one-sided thing, can you?”

“I’ve... honestly never given it any thought,” Rey says. Which is a lie, of course; but he doesn’t need to know that. 

He smirks at her. “Either way, I can tell you’re going to have a heat soon.” He moves closer to her, but Rey keeps her eyes fixed firmly on the contents of her purse. “Just like I could always tell, back when we were kids.”

Rey’s face goes hot at the memory. He’d known her cycle all right. But in the end, what good had it done her?

“Ben,” she says, her irritation rising. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m offering up my services.” He pauses. “I can help you, Rey. I know you’re not mated.” He trails off, and looks meaningfully at her unbitten mating gland. “And sex with you is—”

“Never going to happen again,” Rey finishes bluntly.

He sighs. “Rey…”

“This was a mistake.” She shoulders her purse and adjusts her skirt one last time. It’s long enough to cover her ass, thank god. She’s just going to head out to her car and drive home; it doesn’t matter if she isn’t wearing underwear. She has more paper towels in her car if she ends up needing them. “Coming to this reunion was a mistake. And… what we did tonight was also a mistake.”

“Rey—”

She doesn’t let him finish his sentence. Rey unlocks the bathroom door with a flourish and practically runs out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeek, I am SO SORRY for the delay on this story. Right after I posted the first chapter I began a crazy month-long job interview process for a job in another state; and then once that ended, the world fell apart. :( I am definitely back to working on this fic, though. I hope you are still here for the ride. :)
> 
> That said, PLEASE MIND THE NEW TAGS. This chapter is very different in theme and in tone from anything else I've ever posted. (The pandemic has got me feeling some kind of way for sure.) This Ben--especially in this chapter--is not the sweetheart I often write him to be. He does some not nice things. He will definitely be redeemed in the end but in case you know me from my usual fare I wanted to give you a heads-up before proceeding. <3

_ ~ 2009 ~ _

* * *

Rey takes in a deep lungful of air and holds it before opening the door to her English class, hoping it’ll help her survive the next fifty-five minutes.

She can tell right away it won’t.

The second she steps inside the classroom--full of surly teenagers with their raging hormones--Rey feels another rivulet of slick trickling down her inner thighs.

Fuck.

_ Fuck _ . 

It’s only been three hours. Already she’s had to change her pad twice.

Of all the times and places to present as an omega, it had to be today. And here. 

“Everyone take a seat,” Mr. Ackbar says, voice raised so he can be heard above the din. Rey has never noticed her omega teacher’s vaguely fishy scent before. Now she smells it immediately and acutely the second she gets within ten feet of him. 

It roils her stomach and nearly makes her retch. 

Holding her sleeve up to her nose and trying hard to breathe through her mouth, Rey stumbles towards her usual seat in the back row. When she chose it at the beginning of the year she mostly did it to get away from the laughing, teasing eyes of her classmates. 

She had no idea just how grateful she’d be for her decision to sit back here six months later. Back here, she can almost tune out the scents that have assaulted her senses all morning.

“Charlotte Bronte,” Ackbar begins, his strange little hands clasped behind his back. “An overrated novelist, or ahead of her time?” He peers out at the seniors sitting, bored, in neat rows in front of him, alternately doodling in their notebooks and staring off into space. “Mr. Solo, do you have any thoughts on this question?”

Rey’s eyes snap towards the front of the room where Ben Solo--the asshole who’s spent the better part of the past three years tormenting her mercilessly--sits leaning back in his chair like he’s bored by everything happening around him. His long, thick legs are splayed out in front of him as he reaches up to scratch at his chin, pondering Ackbar’s question.

He turns his head to look at her and holds her gaze very briefly, his eyes dark and cruel as always, before turning away from her again to face their teacher. 

“I think Bronte is both,” he says. He picks up his thermos in one massive hand and takes a giant swallow from it. His voice is ridiculously, ludicrously deep, and while before today Rey hardly even noticed that about him over all the insults he’s hurled her way, right now the rich timbre of his voice screams  _ alpha alpha alpha  _ at her in a way that is impossible for her to ignore. 

Her body reacts to the sound of his voice in ways that are horrific and embarrassing; she can feel another trickle of slick leaking from her as he continues talking. She might despise him for all the names he’s called her over the years but it’s clear her body--now that she’s presented as an omega, effective this morning--has other ideas.

“She was clearly ahead of her time,” he continues. “At the time. But now? Given everything else we could be reading?” Solo shakes his head. His hair is long and thick--something else Rey has never noticed about him before. She is suddenly desperate to bury her nose in that hair. To breathe him in from the source. 

If he  _ looks _ this big, good, strong-- _ fuck, _ what must Ben Solo  _ smell  _ like? 

Before she can spend too long on that disastrous train of thought, someone else’s hand mercifully shoots up into the air, distracting her. It’s Hux, another asshole who’s always taken pleasure in making Rey’s high school life a waking nightmare. Fortunately, Hux is a beta--something that before today Rey has never thought much about but which she’s inordinately grateful for now.

She trains her gaze on him so that she doesn’t have to think about Solo anymore.

“Yes, Armitage?” Ackbar asks. “What would you like to add?”

“Mostly that Solo is an idiot, sir,” he says. Everyone in the class laughs--except for Solo. Solo glares at Hux; Rey can smell the rage and the irritation pouring off of him from the opposite side of the classroom. 

“That’s enough,” Ackbar says to the class, sounding weary and annoyed. “Armitage, would you care to elaborate on that point?”

Hux says something else, but Rey isn’t listening anymore. She’s too distracted by the way Ben Solo is clenching his jaw. 

* * *

“Are you okay?” 

Rose sits down next to her in the cafeteria at lunch time. Rey looks at her friend and sees concern written all over her face.

Rey fidgets with the plastic spork she’d picked up in the cafeteria line. All the food on her tray sits untouched; the idea of eating anything right now turns her stomach.

“Not really,” Rey admits. She turns to face her friend. “I… I mean, I’ve just presented.” She pauses. “As in, just this morning.”

Rose gives her a small, sympathetic smile. “I wondered if that’s what was going on.”

“Really?”

Rose nods. “You’ve been extra jumpy. And you look incredibly pale.” She bites her lip, hesitating. “And... some of the alphas have been staring at you pretty unabashedly all day.”

Rey groans, feeling her cheeks grow hot. She buries her face in her hands, both horrified that she’s attracted this kind of unwanted attention today--and thrilled by it.

This… this is a  _ disaster _ . 

“I can’t believe this is happening to me,” she mumbles. And it’s true. She can’t. “I mean, I guess I always knew there was a small chance this might still happen, but…”

_ But _ , she figured that at eighteen she was in the clear. She’s never even heard of anyone presenting this late in life.

Only she could be so unlucky.

“I know,” Rose says, sympathetically. She puts a hand on Rey’s shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “I really thought this was going to skip both of us. I’ve been imagining us both of us living together as carefree college betas without having to worry about any of this bullshit.” She squeezes her again. “Can you go home early?”

Rey shakes her head. “No. Plutt is at home right now.” Rey’s voice comes out small and broken. Fortunately, Rose knows enough about Rey and her terrible homelife that she doesn’t have to say anything else. “What am I going to  _ do _ ?” 

“The same thing you were going to do before,” Rose says. “You’re going to keep your head down and stay away from that creepy Plutt fucker as much as you can. You’re going to graduate in six months--and then you’re going to get the hell out of here. Just like you’ve always planned.”

Rose is right of course. She  _ knows _ she’s right. But suddenly, everything about the careful balance Rey has spent years trying to strike in her life just to survive feels more precarious than it ever has.

“Who was staring at me today?” Rey asks.

It doesn’t matter, of course. Outside of Rose, and Kaydel, everyone at this school has always been invariably cruel to her. She hates them all, and cannot wait to graduate and never have to see any of them again.

Except somehow… it does matter. It matters a lot. A small part of her that’s always been there has woken up. And suddenly, for the first time, she is filled with a nearly overwhelming desire to be  _ pleasing _ . To be wanted. Desired. 

Rose hesitates. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Rey nods. 

“Dameron was looking at you a bit,” Rose says, reluctantly. “Hux, too. Though I have no idea why; he’s as beta as they come.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “Who the hell knows why Hux does anything, ever?”

Rose averts her eyes before continuing. “Solo was looking at you most of all, though.”

At the sound of Solo’s name a wave of fresh, unwelcome arousal stabs through her, hitting her low and hard in the belly. Rey bends forward over her lunch tray with a small grunt, arms crossed tight across her stomach.

“That… that’s impossible,” Rey grits out, trying hard to ignore yet another trickle of slick that’s starting to pool inside her.  _ Fuck _ . She is going to have to throw away the underwear she’s wearing the minute she gets home despite the pads. 

“Why is that impossible?” Rose asks.

Rey stares at her friend. “Solo hates me. He’s never said a single nice thing to me, ever.”

Rose shrugs. “I don’t think that matters when alpha and beta biology is involved.”

“Well it should.” Rey picks up her spork and starts stabbing at the mashed potatoes on her plate. “Anyone who calls a person names like  _ Scavenger _ and tells you you’re trash every time they see you should forfeit the right to find you interesting just because you’ve presented.”

“I… yeah.” Rose looks sympathetically at her friend. “Unfortunately, Rey, it doesn’t work that way.”

Rey sighs and closes her eyes, knowing her friend is right. But wishing she weren’t.

* * *

At the end of the day Rey races out of Calculus--desperate to get out of her classroom, out of this building,  _ out _ . 

This entire day has been a torment, filled with smells and sensations that have driven her nearly out of her mind with need. She needs to get home. She is going to go home, and then she is going to lock herself into her bedroom, strip off all of her clothes, and use her vibrator on herself until this hot horrible pressure between her legs abates and she can finally  _ think _ again. This is not pleasure, despite what all those articles and grainy internet pornography clips might say. This is arousal to the point of pain, to the point where Rey would think she was entering heat for the first time if she didn’t know that was literally impossible.

She catches the passing scent of several teenage alphas on her way to the school exit. They smell potent. Dangerous. The boys turn their heads in unison to look at her, their gazes predatory and a little confused.

Rey realizes, with a sudden, horrible lurching feeling in the pit of her stomach, that she isn’t going to make it until she gets back home.

With shaking hands she wrenches open the first door she comes to in the corridor and slams it shut behind her. 

She sees several mops, propped up inside a bucket half-filled with murky water. Next to it sit three brooms. There’s a dingy old shelf hanging on one of the walls, lined with various cleaning products Rey can’t quite identify in the dark room.

She’s... in the janitor’s closet, she realizes. She closes her eyes, groaning at how she very well might be the most pathetic person alive.

But that doesn’t change her situation. She needs release. Desperately. And she needs it now. 

She contemplates sneaking out of here and finding an empty stall in the nearest girls’ bathroom. But between sports, and cheerleading, and all the academic clubs there are bound to be dozens of people still in this building. A bathroom stall might be marginally more comfortable for what she’s about to do than a dingy old janitorial closet. But if she went that route she’d have absolutely no guarantee she’d be alone for long.

And she doesn’t want anyone to be able to hear--or, smell--what she’s about to do. 

She waits a few more minutes, carefully listening at the door until the noisy clamor of footsteps out in the hallway starts to recede. Every additional moment she puts this off is fresh agony, and it is with shaking hands that she finally undoes the button of her jeans and slides down its zipper.

When her fingertips part her folds and reach her almost painfully swollen clit she nearly bursts into tears with sweet relief.

She doesn’t have much time for this. On the rare occasions she touches herself at home she tries to draw the experience out a little so she can savor it. But there is no savoring this. No; the minute her jeans are down around her ankles her hands are all over her poor sex, rubbing and rubbing and rubbing at her clit like her life depends on it. Which might not be far from the truth. As her first orgasm starts to build at the base of her spine she leans back against the wall of the closet, so lost to sensation she hardly even feels the angry press of the mop handle into her backside.

She doesn’t notice the heavy, unmistakable footsteps that stop right outside her closet door at all. 

“Well, well.” 

Rey’s hands stutter, stops. Her eyes fly open. 

_ No. _

Ben Solo leans against the door of the closet and lets out a dismissive snort. “What do we have here?”

“Fuck off, Solo,” Rey says, with as much bravado as she can muster. But her voice is shaking. Her orgasm is  _ so close _ \--just out of reach--and goddamnit, the sound of his infuriating voice is almost enough, all on its own, to get her there.

She needs to come like she’s never needed anything before in her life.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, mildly.

She glares at the door. “Go  _ away _ .”

“I know what you’re doing in there,  _ Scavenger.”  _ The hairs on the back of Rey’s neck stand up at the sound of his usual insult for her. His voice is deep and sonorous and… fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ “I can smell you fucking yourself with your fingers all the way down the hallway.”

Rey blanches. “I... I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do,” he replies, voice like silk. “And I think you need my help. A dirty little scavenger like you shouldn’t have to do this all alone.”

She shouldn’t love the way the cruel insult curls her toes inside her shoes. She shouldn’t be seconds away from begging him to call her a  _ dirty little scavenger _ again, right in her ear. But she does love it, and she  _ is _ on the cusp of leaving all her pride behind and begging him to say it again. 

She has never hated him more than she does in this moment. 

“I don’t need your help.” What she  _ needs _ is to stop doing this. What she  _ needs _ to get the hell out of this janitor’s closet, find her way onto her bus back home, and lock herself inside the safety of her bedroom until this is over. But her fingers are speeding up of their own accord, and she can actually smell him now, too, looming just outside the closet door. His scent virtually reaches inside her, shoves her hand aside and caresses her clit the way no touch of her own ever could.

“You know--it’s sad, really,” he continues, ignoring her protests. “It’s so sad that you can’t afford decent suppressants or even a real dildo to knot you properly. You  _ do _ need my help, Rey.” He chuckles again. “The only question is, what will you do for me if I give it to you?”

Rey groans at the commanding, leering tone in his voice. She can’t help it. The same tone he’s used to taunt her and tease her mercilessly ever since their freshman year now makes her want to do unspeakable things to him. She’s awash in sensation, her jeans long since kicked off into a corner as her fingers fumble frantically at her clit. She feels wild and drunk and burning hot--

Solo moves even closer to the closet where she’s hidden herself. He presses his face right to the door, close enough that suddenly she can smell his sharp, heady arousal spiking from the other side. 

And all of a sudden Rey knows—with a kind of clarity she has seldom known in her life— there is only one thing that will quench the fire threatening to consume her.

“Solo,” she whimpers. Her fingers are going as fast as they can, but it isn’t enough. It will  _ never _ be enough. “ _ Please _ .”

Rey hardly notices it when the door to the janitor’s closet swings open, or when it slams shut again a second later. All she knows is one moment she’s writhing on her own fingers, desperate for something,  _ anything _ , to make it stop--and the next moment her hand has been roughly peeled away from her body by another, much larger hand that smells like safety and feels like home.

“I can’t believe you had such a delicious-smelling omega trapped inside of you all this time,” Ben growls into her ear. “I  _ should _ have known.” He mouths at her scent gland as his fingers roughly part her folds and find her clit, and it feels  _ so good _ to be touched this way she slumps against his body out of relief and dizzying, blinding pleasure. 

All day long she’s been so confused, so lost. But now Alpha is here. Alpha will take care of her. 

Everything is going to be okay.

He shoves her up against the wall, pinning her there with his body-- _ huge _ , Rey thinks, feverishly; Alpha is so  _ huge _ and  _ warm, _ he’ll keep her  _ safe.  _ He fumbles with the buckle of his belt and Rey realizes, suddenly, that he’s going to fuck her in here. He’s going to spread her thighs apart with his massive hands and shove his cock so deep inside she sees stars. He’s going to fuck her, and fuck her, and  _ fuck _ her until she’s a writhing, babbling mess. Until she comes, as hard as she ever has in her life--impaled, split in two, right on his cock.

He gets his belt undone--and if the slick leaking out of her had been a trickle earlier in the day, now her cunt is like a river in flood. She actually  _ gushes _ as she watches him pull his cock-- _ big; _ so  _ big-- _ out of his boxers. 

She groans again, eyes rolling back in her head, as she imagines what that cock will feel like when it’s fucking into her.

“Not yet,” he growls in her ear. “I know you want this, Omega. I know you  _ need _ it. But not yet.” He leans forward and nips at her scent gland again, nearly bringing her to orgasm on the spot. “You need to prove to me, first, that you deserve it.”

He puts his big hand between her legs and starts drawing lazy circles through her slick, just to the side of where she so desperately wants him to touch her.

What is he doing? She wants his cock. She  _ needs _ his cock. Her cunt is clenching around nothing, and it  _ hurts _ , and--

“How…” Rey trails off, tries to focus. She needs to get these words out; but suddenly, her mouth has gone bone dry. He’s still touching her, but  _ not _ touching her. It’s impossible to think clearly through this haze of lust. She licks her lips, and tries again. “How do I…”

_ How do I show you I deserve it? _

He must know what she’s trying to ask him, because a moment later he puts his hands on her shoulders and guides her gently downward, until she’s kneeling on the cold, filthy tile floor of the janitor’s closet, his rigid cock inches away from her face.

“I had to smell you all day, Scavenger,” he tells her. Scolding her. He’s  _ scolding _ her, she realizes.  _ Yes.  _ “Do you have any idea what it’s like, smelling a newly presented omega? Smelling her, and knowing that everyone else around her can smell her too?”

She looks up at him. His eyes are trained on the far wall of the closet. 

“No,” she admits.

“It smells like the best sex you’ve never had,” he rasps. “It smells like everything you’ve ever wanted but have never been allowed to touch.” 

He caresses her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I’ll get you off, Omega. I’ll make you come so hard you forget your name. But first, I’m going to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours. I’m going to come down your throat.” He presses his hips forward an inch until the tip of his cock bumps up against her lips. She can smell the heady musk of alpha and precome on him and her brain shorts out. “I think I’ve earned that.”

Rey doesn’t know what to say in response to that. All her powers of speech have left her.

All she knows is that right now, she would do anything this alpha asked her to do.

A moment later he’s sliding between her lips, hot and hard and urgent. Rey moans around him, unable to keep from thinking what it would feel like to have his cock parting her slick wet folds, fucking her cunt instead of her mouth. 

On instinct she sucks, hard, hollowing out her cheeks. He  _ hisses _ in response, and twines his fingers through her hair. He is  _ so big _ . He’s only gone in a few inches and she already feels so stuffed full of him she can hardly breathe. 

And then, without warning, he begins to move.

Rey has never done this before. She’s never done anything  _ remotely like _ this before. She’s seen a few snippets of porn, like most people--on Rose’s phone, after her parents went to bed the last time she spent the night; at home, curiosity getting the better of her one day after the lesson they’d had on basic alpha and omega biology. 

Watching porn has never felt like this feels, though--dirty, degrading. Vital. Beautiful. 

Ben Solo’s hands, tugging hard on her hair as his hips flex and the salty tang of his precome explodes across her tongue.

Rey doesn’t really know what she’s doing, and at first her nerves and her gag reflex won’t let her take more than a few inches of him into her mouth. But instinct--instinct to please her alpha, to please him so that she can earn the delicious reward he promised her--soon kicks in. Her conscious mind switches off and she gives in to it, wrapping her hand around the base of his shaft as she bobs her head up and down his enormous length. She has no idea what she’s doing but he seems to like it well enough if his groans and his filthy, guttural words of praise are anything to go by. Every pleasured sound torn from his throat reverberates through her, and causes the coil desire in the pit of her belly to twist tighter. 

It isn’t long before she can’t take the delicious pressure anymore and her free hand once again finds its way between her legs.

“That’s it,” Solo hisses through gritted teeth. “That’s it.  _ Fuck.  _ Your mouth looks so  _ good _ stuffed full of my cock.” He starts thrusting a little harder, picking up speed, and instinctively Rey wraps her lips around her front teeth to prevent them from grazing him as she tries to match his frantic pace. She relaxes the muscles of her throat to let the tip of him slide down further, and he grunts, gripping the back of her head with both hands so he can fuck her face harder. He is absolutely pummeling the back of her throat now, and she is dimly aware that this will hurt like hell in the morning--but she doesn’t care, because a few moments later she can feel the base of his cock swelling beneath her palms with the beginnings of his knot, and suddenly, that is the only thing in the world that matters. 

She speeds up her movements, using both hands to jerk him off as her mouth feverishly works his tip.  _ That knot is supposed to be in my cunt _ she thinks, truly desperate now.  _ Maybe one day alpha will give it to me.  _ She wants to make Solo come, she wants to feel the way his knot grows and swells in her palms as he spills his release down her throat, and so she redoubles her efforts, groaning around him and adding a little twist to the base of his shaft with every pass of her tongue.

He doesn’t knot her mouth, in the end. He isn’t able to go in deep enough to make it work. But it feels like his orgasm goes on forever all the same, his hands clutching at the back of her head like a lifeline and pressing her face so forcefully into his groin she can feel the tickle of his pubic hairs against her cheeks. 

And she drinks him down, greedily, hungry for this in a way she doesn’t understand. 

When at last he is finished he gently guides her face away from his cock. His knot is still red and swollen. It looks painful; angry. But he sighs his contentment all the same.

“That was good,” he murmurs. “You sucked me off so well, Scavenger.” He reaches down and grasps her under her arms, carefully pulling her to a standing position again. Now that he’s come he is handling her with a tenderness that confuses her. He steps forward and pushes her up against the wall of the closet once more. “Did you like having my cock in your mouth?”

She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say to that. 

“Did you?” he asks again. More commanding this time. “Did you like how my come tasted?”

His tone brooks no opposition and it pulls her answer from her before her mind has a chance to catch up.

“Yes,” she squeaks. The right answer, apparently. He hums his satisfaction and presses a whisper-light kiss to the side of her neck.  _ Oh.  _ “ _ Yes _ .”

“Good,” he murmurs, his breath hot and sweet against her gland. His hand slides down the front of her body, not stopping until his palm lies flat against her sex. He cups her there, and she starts to squirm. “Would you like me to get you off now?”

She writhes against his hand, moaning and thrashing as another fresh trickle of slick coats his palm. 

“Solo…” she breathes. “ _ Please _ .”

“ _ Alpha _ ,” he corrects her. “And I’m going to need you to use your words.” He parts her folds with the tips of two fingers and gently caresses her along her slit. Rey has never been wetter. It feels like she is going to die.

“ _ Please _ ,” she cries out, broken. She cants her hips forward, tries desperately to grind up against his hand. But he presses her back against the wall with his free arm, stilling her movements.

“Use your words, Omega,” Solo repeats. He traces her opening with the tips of two thick fingers, his touch infuriatingly feather-light. “I know you come from trash, but  _ surely  _ you are capable of telling me what you want.”

The harsh reminder of what they’ve been to one another all through high school cuts through the hazy fog of her arousal like a knife. 

“Fuck me,” she spits. She will not beg him for his knot, despite the fact that every instinct within her is screaming at her to do just that. “I want you… I want you to  _ fuck me _ .”

He sighs. “I’m so sorry. I’m afraid I’m spent.” He leans forward and licks a hot wet stripe down the side of her neck, nipping the edge of her gland. Possessive.  _ Mine _ . “You sucked me off so well just now, you see. But I told you I’d get you off if you showed me you deserved it, and I keep my promises.”

He presses two big fingers into her tight, wet cunt, opening her up like a ripe peach. 

And her vision whites out. 

Rey is no stranger to masturbation. She has even experimented with inserting a finger or two inside her cunt a couple of times. But there is a world of difference between using her fingers to wring a quiet, timid orgasm from her body and what Ben Solo is doing to her right now. She wants to thrash against the heavy arm he’s laid across her belly to hold her still, she wants to meet every thrust of his hand with one of her own--but she is mindless in his arms, nothing but a ball of aching, writhing need. 

“I want to feel you come,” Solo murmurs into her ear. His thumb flicks downwards to strum hard against her clit; her mouth falls open in a silent scream as she teeters closer to the edge. “Come for me, Scavenger.”

He leans forward and takes one of her stiff, hardened nipples between his teeth, over her shirt.

He bites down. 

Rey flies apart, her cunt clenching down around his thick fingers as her back arches and her mind goes blank. She comes for endless seconds, every molecule in her body suffused in a kind of bliss she has never known. Her cunt is stuffed so stuffed full of Ben Solo there’s no room inside her for anything else.

By the time she has come back to herself Solo is already tucking himself back into his jeans. Part of her wants to protest, to remind him he  _ promised _ her he’d give her his cock if she showed him she deserved it.

The rest of her is filled with revulsion over what they just did in here, and over what she wants him to do to her still. She wants to scream at him, to tell him to leave her  _ the fuck alone _ , and to shove him bodily out of this closet.

But then he smirks at her, and anything she might have said to him dies in her throat.

“I’m going to have a lot of fun with you,” he muses, so matter-of-factly it’s like he’s telling her about the weather. He rests one hand on the door handle. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite ten years of both distance and other sexual partners she supposes it’s always going to hurt a little, with him. 
> 
> Not that it’s ever going to happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are still here reading, I apologize for the insanely long wait for an update. <3
> 
> Because this story is a big departure for me in just about every way, I don't know that I'll ever be able to commit to a regular update schedule for it. That said, the rest of the story is all plotted out and is absolutely still being written as we speak. Thank you so much for your patience with me! I don't *anticipate* any more 3 month waits between chapters. <3

~ 2020 ~

* * *

Rey blinks at the words on her computer monitor, hoping that if she just stares at them long enough they will arrange themselves into something approximating some kind of sense.

They don’t. No matter how hard she tries to focus her mind keeps drifting away from the words she is reading, and the report she  _ really _ should have finished two days ago, and back to that stupid high school reunion she never should have attended. And what she and Solo did to each other in that deserted hotel bathroom. All those awful, delicious things. Things that make her thighs clench even now.

God. What had she been thinking, letting him fuck her like that? 

It had taken her longer than it really should have for her to drive home Saturday night, her mind still in total disarray and clouded with self-loathing… and lust. Without any underwear to serve as a barrier the sticky remnants of her bathroom tryst with Solo kept leaking out of her the whole way home, making a total mess of her seat and serving as a continual, shameful reminder of what she had just done.

And what a complete and utter idiot she was.

It had only added insult to injury when she’d gone through her purse before bed that night and found his business card, hidden among her wallet and her lipstick, with a short note written in his neat handwriting:

_ Rey -- Call me if you change your mind. I promise I can make it good for you. ~ Ben S. _

He must have surreptitiously slid it in her bag at some point after their tryst, when she was trying to pull herself together and get the hell out of that bathroom. 

Now, four full days later, she is still a little sore between the legs from their rough, unplanned encounter in the hotel bathroom. But that’s nothing new. Ben Solo’s was the first cock she ever took, the first cock that ever fucked her through a heat, and it  _ remains _ the biggest cock Rey has ever had inside of her by a huge margin. Despite ten years of both distance and other sexual partners she supposes it’s always going to hurt a little, with him. Especially when he takes her from behind, like he did at that party.

Not that it’s ever going to happen again.

Rey is so lost in her own torment— in the agonizingly delicious memory of his hands on her body that still won’t fade, no matter how hard she tries to put that out of mind— that she doesn’t even realize Finn is standing right outside her cubicle until he clears his throat, loudly and pointedly.

“Earth to Rey,” he says. He waves a hand in front of her face. “Hey. Are you almost finished with the Stan report? I need to add my comments to it before we send it to Mothma.”

Rey’s stomach lurches at the sudden realization that her inability to focus on anything but her stupid mistake has ripple effects. 

It makes it hard for Finn to do his job, too. 

“I’m... almost finished,” she promises, feeling guilty. “I just need a few more hours.”

“Great,” Finn says. But he looks dubious. 

“I mean it,” Rey says. “I’ll... email it to you before I go home tonight.”

She turns back to her computer, ready to redouble her efforts so she can get this thing off to Finn at a reasonable hour. But Finn lingers outside her cubicle a moment longer, hesitating.

“Rey?” he says. “Is anything wrong?”

Rey can feel her face grow hot under his scrutiny. “No,” she lies. She doesn’t turn around in her chair to look at him. If she does, she knows she’ll crack. He can’t know what a mess she is. Not Finn, who’s always been there for her. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Hm,” he muses. “You’ve seemed  _ very _ off the past few days.”

Rey closes her eyes. “I’m super tired,” she says. That part, at least is true. “And also my heat’s coming up in a few days.” Also true.

“Okay,” Finn says. Rey can hear the note of concern in his voice and god, she hates that she’s the one who put it there. “Just so you know, if you need someone to talk to—”

“I know where to find you,” Rey finishes for him. “I do. Promise.”

Her friend smiles. “Exactly. Now get back to work, okay? We gotta get that report off to Mothma tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

From anyone else, that sort of reminder would likely have caused Rey’s tough outer veneer to crack and tears to come pouring out. But Finn doesn’t have a stern bone in his body. Not when it comes to her.

Not even when she’s being a complete idiot.

“Just a few more hours,” Rey says again. “Then it’s all yours.”

* * *

When she finally gets home from work Rey begins what has been her nightly pre-heat routine for years now. Rey is a creature of habit in most things; as such, her routine hasn’t changed much at all in the years since she’s been on her current suppressants.

She gets home from work at exactly six in the evening, every night in the week before she’s about to start. She changes into her hideous but comfortable Tinkerbell sweatpants. She makes herself dinner— just plain pasta; anything heavier will upset her stomach this close to a heat— and eats it at exactly six-thirty while watching sitcom reruns on Netflix.  _ Parks and Rec _ goes well this time of her cycle, but this time she’s switching it up with a little  _ Schitt’s Creek. _

At ten, like clockwork, she shuts off the television. She goes to the bathroom. Brushes her teeth.

Once she’s screwed the top of the toothpaste tube back on, Rey slowly opens her medicine cabinet and pulls out her bottle of suppressants.

She takes a look at them and takes a deep breath.

How many times have these little pills saved her from herself over the years? She’s lost count. 

Rey bites her lip, unscrews the lid from the bottle, and carefully counts the remaining pills inside.

_ Eight, nine, ten. _

Rey never miscounts and neither does her pharmacist. But it’s part of the ritual all the same. Rey is not ordinarily a superstitious person, but when it comes to her heats she makes an exception to that general rule.

When she follows the routine, her heats are moderately tolerable.

When she doesn’t…

Well. 

It’s a mistake she refuses to make a second time.

At least her heats now are nothing like they were during her miserable adolescence. Yes, she still has the horrible misfortune of being an omega. But her job treats her well, and after years of dealing with shitty, cheap suppressants that kept her half a heartbeat away from a breakthrough at all times she’s got great insurance that covers SuppressItAll, the most effective suppressant currently on the market.

Between her, SuppressItAll and an expensive array of toys to help her through the worst of things when she can’t be bothered with finding a partner…

In truth, her situation really isn’t that bad.

At least it doesn’t  _ seem _ that bad right now, when she’s still a few days out from the beginning. A few days from now she knows she’ll be singing an entirely different tune. 

Even heats that aren’t too bad are still  _ heats _ .

Rey pours out two of the little pills from the bottle directly into her palm. She closes her eyes and pops them into her mouth. She fills the glass that she keeps in the bathroom with cold water from her tap and swallows them down.

She’s already starting to feel the earliest little twinges in her womb that signal that her heat is on its way. For now, though, they are manageable— little tremors she only notices if she isn’t focusing on anything else. She can already tell that this heat won’t be too bad; her plan for relying on her vibrator with the knot attachment should work well enough, this time.

Rey climbs into bed, closes her eyes, and pulls her covers up to her chin, waiting for sleep to take her.

* * *

_ Rey is naked, lying on top of the softest bed she has ever known. Her wrists are bound, her arms spread apart, each of them tied to a different bedpost above her head. Her legs have been split part almost painfully wide, her ankles tied too-tightly to the bedposts at the foot of the bed. She doesn’t even bother to fight her bindings; she knows, somehow without trying, that they wouldn’t have any give.  _

_ There is a fight going on in the room. But Rey cannot see it. She is wearing a too-tight blindfold made of thick fabric that prevents her from seeing anything at all. _

_ But she can hear what’s happening in the room around her.  _

_ And, oh god _ —  _ she can smell it. _

_ She can smell every single one of them _ —  _ each of the grappling, snarling alphas with their spiking pheromones just a few feet from where she is bound, immobile and writhing in hot wet agony on the bed. She can smell their arousal on the air like an aphrodisiac, heady and potent, each of them clawing at one another with hands, fists, and teeth. Each one of them is already rock hard, she knows, and desperate to get to her: the omega in heat.  _

_ Their prize. _

_ Rey does not know how long she has been bound here, how long she has been spread open like this before all and sundry. She has no shame, knowing that they can see all of her, exposed as she is. She has no memory of a time before  _ now _ , no thoughts in her head other than the violent consuming need driving all rational thought from her head and soaking the mattress beneath her. _

_ The thought of what the winner will do to her once he destroys the other, weaker alphas pulls a moan from her throat that’s muffled around the gag stuffed in her mouth. Alpha will fuck her like she needs to be fucked, using her like a ragdoll as he wrings orgasm out of orgasm from her helpless body. He’ll hold her in place while he fills her with his cum, quenching the fire threatening to consume her _ —  _ and then he’ll fuck her again, and again, using her all the way up until there is nothing left of her but her swollen cum-filled cunt and the mess she is already making of this bed. Until his cum spills out of her, too much to be contained even by his knot. He will bite and mark her body until his essence sinks into her skin, until she is visibly his.  _

_ Even though she can barely move, she can’t help but buck her hips at the thought of it. A single bead of sweat rolls down between her bare breasts, the coolness of the air in the room providing a delicious, sharp contrast to the flushed heat of her flesh. She could swear that with her every moan, the violence in the room becomes more pitched, more focused, even as the alphas present dwindle in numbers.  _

Soon _ , she thinks, the desperate chant beating in time with her pulse and the throbbing between her legs.  _ Soon _.  _

_ At length, there is a winner. Rey can hear the victor’s hoarse cry over the ringing in her ears, can feel  _ her _ Alpha’s rumbling laughter as the others cower back to whatever corners of the world they came from. _

_ And then, there is nothing at all but the feel of Alpha’s tongue licking a hot and greedy stripe up her slit and the white hot spikes of pleasure bursting behind her closed eyelids. The anticipation for his knot is going to burn her up from the inside _ —

_ “Mine,” Ben Solo grits out, his face buried deep in her cunt. She can feel the vibrations of his deep voice against her sex, can smell the possessive way his scent curls around her. It’s practically a tangible thing in this surreal dreamspace, holding her so tight to him she begins to believe he’s right, she  _ is _ his, and why did she ever think otherwise? _

_ When he climbs up her body and fucks into her at last, all the breath leaves her body in a single heated gasp, the mind-melting pleasure shredding reality apart into a million glittering pieces. _

* * *

Rey wakes suddenly, on a heated, shuddering groan.

She realizes, instantly, that the mattress beneath her is squelching and wet. Somehow her panties have gotten twisted around her right ankle; a moment later she notices the palm of her right hand is pressed, hard and urgently, to her clit. 

She can tell by the telltale boneless sensation in her legs that she managed to come while she was still sleeping. Maybe even multiple times.

She can also tell that her heat— still not due for a few more days— has begun in earnest.  _ Fuck.  _ She feels too hot and clammy all over, and her bedsheets are stuck to her skin with sweat and slick in a way she normally doesn’t have to deal with until day three. 

“Fuck,” she moans out loud. She lifts her free hand to her forehead, not able to bear the thought of tearing her hand away from her sex for even a moment. She tries to brush away the stray lock of hair that is plastered to her forehead, but even that simple movement is too much for her; her cunt clenches down, hard, around nothing, and she  _ whines _ with frustration—with the urgent, desperate need to be filled, to be fucked, to be used.

She lunges awkwardly, drunkenly, for her bedside table and yanks open the top drawer, rummaging around inside it for what feels like hours until her fingers brush up against the dildo she keeps on hand for those times she spends a heat without a partner. She grabs it, and shoves it as deep inside her cunt as it will go, letting out a shaky breath once it’s hilted inside her. No need for lube this time; her body is probably producing enough slick right now for two of these things to fit. 

She slams it into her again on a hard groan, and then again, and  _ again,  _ fucking herself with it like her life depends on it. Because right now, that’s exactly what it feels like. She is desperate—desperate for  _ anything _ that will get her off, and that will put out the fire that feels like it will burn her alive from the inside out. 

But the toy is doing frustratingly little for her. She lets out a needy whine, her entire body coiled and tense, primed and ready for release—and while under normal circumstances the knot setting on this dildo can keep the harder edges of a normal heat at bay, right now it’s doing almost nothing.

The longer she thrusts away at herself uselessly with the silicone toy, the harder it is for Rey to think about anything but what she  _ really _ wants.

Expensive suppressants and sex toys aside, the only cock that has ever  _ really _ helped her through a heat that’s hit this hard and this unexpectedly is... attached to a person. 

A very specific, terrible person. 

A terrible person who currently is looking a lot more attractive in her mind’s eye than she’d like to admit. 

Her mind drifts helplessly back to the Ben Solo that just featured in her dreams—the man who’d beaten off all those weaker alphas and who made her fall to pieces with a single powerful thrust of his hips. She groans in frustration, tries to get the knot on the dildo up to a larger setting—and thinks back to the young Ben Solo from ten years ago who snuck her up to his family’s cabin and fucked her for days through her first hard heat, taking care of her in a way she’s not experienced from another lover since, a smug smirk on his face the whole time.

Ben Solo, who just a few days ago gave her the best orgasm she’s had in months. Maybe years. 

Possibly ever.

_ Fuck _ .

Before Rey even realizes she’s doing it she’s diving for her purse, stashed beneath her bed, and digging through it until her shaking hands close around the business card he slid in there the other night.

She can use him, she tells herself feverishly. She can use him for his cock, for his stamina and his cum. For his... unique ability to help her through this. And then she never has to speak to him again. She’ll be in the driver’s seat.

Yes.

This can work.

Her hands are shaking with impatience and with need as she dials his number, both telling herself that she should hope he doesn’t pick up—but knowing, deep down inside, that she desperately hopes he does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sounds like a solid plan to me.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on twitter at [jeenonamit](https://twitter.com/jeenonamit/)!  
> Or on tumblr, also at [jeenonamit](https://jeenonamit.tumblr.com/).


End file.
